


HSWC 2014 Bonus Round Five Fills

by sonicSymphony



Series: HSWC 2014 Bonus Round Fills [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Multi, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicSymphony/pseuds/sonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A variety of ships in many different situations, all written for the fifth bonus round of the Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Words That Once Were Spoken; Disciple/Signless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "And remember/The truth that once was spoken/To love another person/Is to see the face of God." - Les Miserables

You have loved, and you have lost. Was it all for nothing? You’d journeyed and preached and supported each other and stood up for a better future, but even those who has once stayed firmly at your side bent their knee to the Condesce out of fear. You were never afraid, never craven like them.

Some days, when you’re half-feral with grief and ready to claw down the entire Empire, you think your family’s sacrifices were worthless, and that hurts you more than the Condesce ever could. As you sit alone in your cave, thinking and drawing and writing and dreaming, the echoes of their voices wash over you: Kankri’s clear, righteous tone; Mituna’s drawl that could slip into devotion at a moment’s notice; Porrim’s firm voice that snapped you out of your haze when the E%ecutioner gave you the opportunity to slip away.

_“Run, Meulin. Don’t look back, don’t worry about us, go.”_

Kankri may have been your best beloved, but they all were your family. Meulin, Kankri, Porrim, and Mituna: the four of you could take on any challenger or foe and come out victorious, or so you thought until reality did that ridiculous thing where it guts you, leaving you bleeding on the forest floor like a defeated beast you hunt, but you are refused the dignity of death. But that’s all right. Your desire to have died with your love has long since shriveled and wilted, as you serve a higher cause now.

A record keeper of the first coming (there will be a second, he foretold it in his final Vast Expletive, the proclamation buried under hateful diction) is a noble position. When you die, someone will stumble across your writings and realize that there is an enlightened path: one without violence or caste systems or tyranny. They will have no choice but to spread your beloved’s teachings.

You have to believe that in order to retain the bit of sanity you have left.

Though your words and his will one day be diffused across continents and lost to all but cults, all you can do now is painstakingly write his scripture—he is not a deity and he never was, but his love was the closest thing to a God you’ve ever had, so you will live the rest of your life assuring his messages will not be forgotten. You have loved, and you have lost, but you have faith that one day, the darkness and hate that has engulfed Alternia will end and the sun will rise.


	2. Waste of Sweetness; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” - Louise Erdrich

CA: she broke up wwith me

That’s it. That’s all he says. There are none of his usual theatrics or wails of pain or expletives, and that simple statement lets you know he’s devastated. Cracking your knuckles, you draw up some sympathy and get ready for the waterworks.

CG: I’M SORRY DUDE, THAT REALLY SUCKS. BUT AT LEAST YOU KNOW WHERE YOU STAND WITH HER NOW, BECAUSE BEFORE ALL YOU COULD DO WAS GUESS, AND YOUR MOIRALLEGIANCE ENDED UP BEING A LOT MORE PAINFUL THAN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN. NOW YOU CAN FOCUS ON THIS DAMN GAME INSTEAD OF YOUR TRATIOROUS RED FEELINGS THAT YOU HAVE FOR YOUR MOIRAIL.  
CG: OR EX-MOIRAIL, I GUESS. GOD, THAT WAS BLUNT, I DIDN’T MEAN TO STAB YOUR ALREADY-BLEEDING WOUND THERE.  
CA: i really wwasnt expectin to feel this wway wwhen she finally broke it off  
CA: like im not evven PALE for her but i still feel absolutely miserable  
CA: i kinda just wwanna curl up in my recuperacoon and nevver get out  
CG: IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU NEED SOME SAGE WISDOM, SO I WILL GIVE YOU SOME GODDAMMT.  
CG: LIFE WILL BREAK YOU. NOBODY CAN PROTECT YOU FROM THAT, NOT EVEN YOUR MANIC PIXIE DREAM MATESPRIT, AND LIVING ALONE WON’T EITHER, BECAUSE SOLITUDE WILL BREAK YOU WITH ITS YEARNING.  
CG: YOU HAVE TO LOVE. YOU HAVE TO FEEL. IT’S THE REASON YOU’RE FUCKING HERE. YOU ARE HERE TO RISK YOUR HEART. YOU ARE HERE TO BE SWALLOWED UP. AND WHEN IT HAPPENS THAT YOU ARE BROKEN, OR BETRAYED, OR LEFT, OR HURT, OR DEATH BRUSHS NEAR, LET YOURSELF SIT BY A FUCKING APPLE TREE, OR WHATEVER FRUIT TREE YOU SEA DWELLERS LIKE, AND LISTEN TO THE APPLES FALLING AROUND YOU IN HEAPS, WASTING THEIR SWEETNESS.  
CG: TELL YOURSELF YOU TASTED AS MANY AS YOU COULD.  
CA: wwoww kar thats pretty damn profound  
CA: i bet it wwas in one of your shitty movvies  
CG: ONE: FUCK YOU, MY MOVIES AREN’T SHITTY. I HAPPEN TO REMEMBER YOU CRIED AT “A SEA DWELLER MEETS A MIDBLOODED LAND DWELLER AND THEY HAVE A LOT OF FUN FLARPING TOGETHER AND DEVELOP PALE FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER UNTIL HE DECIDES NOT TO COME ONE DAY BECAUSE HE OPTED TO HANG OUT WITH AN ADULT SCHOOLFEEDER INSTEAD AND HIS SOON-TO-BE MOIRAIL DOESN’T STAY HOME, DECIDING TO FLARP BY HERSELF AND SHE ENDS UP DROWNING, AND EVERYTHING IS AWFUL”.  
CA: did you really wwanna make me cry  
CA: because you just made me cry since you made me remember THAT MOVVIE on top of all the other shit im goin through right noww  
CG: TWO: I JUST GAVE YOU SOME SOUND ADVICE. YOU CAN’T BE HUNG UP ON ONE TROLL FOREVER. FEFERI’S LOVELY AND ALL, BUT DAMMIT, ERIDAN, SHE’S JUST NOT INTO YOU. AND THAT SUCKS, I KNOW IT DOES, BUT YOU HAVE TO ACCEPT THAT AND MOVE ON.  
CG: …AND I REALLY HOPE THAT DIDN’T ACTUALLY MAKE YOU CRY AND YOU’RE JUST BEING DRAMATIC, BECAUSE IF THAT MADE YOU CRY, I’D FEEL SO BAD.  
CA: ivve gotta go kar  
CA: bye  
caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

He’s either off to go kill something and blow off some steam, or you somehow managed to make him even more upset than already was. Sighing, you bury your head in your hands and think that you have a lot more important things to worry about than some dumb violetblood with relationship problems.

But that doesn’t stop you from worrying.


	3. Poco a Poco; Dirk&Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I was never angry with you. I was sad, because I was afraid you’d lost your way." -Uncle Iroh, Avatar the Last Airbender

“To three months clean,” you say, raising your glass of orange juice.

Roxy’s smile is a bit bitterer than yours. “Three months,” she says quietly, tilting her glass so it lightly _pings_ against yours, and you both take a swallow of juice. A thin trickle of liquid makes a river down her chin and she pulls her lips away from her glass with a laugh, wiping the dribble away with the back of her hand. Wordlessly, you hand her a napkin. “Thanks, Dirky.”

She props her elbow on the table and balances her chin in her palm. You don’t know why but she starts giggling again, and you end up laughing along for some reason—awkwardness, probably. After the noise dies down, you tell her honestly, “I’m so proud of you, Rox.”

Her jaw clenches momentarily, and you lay your hand on top of hers, which is curled on the stem of her wine glass. Sighing with a strange twist of her lips, she says, “I did this for you more than for me, you know. I mean, of course I need to _not_ be an alcoholic for my own mental well-being and all that jazz, but I keep remembering how _mad_ you got about it sometimes, like at the New Year’s party at Jake’s—”

“You’d been trying so hard,” you interrupt, running your thumb across her knuckles, “and yeah, I didn’t like that you’d gotten drunk just because the ball dropped, but I was never angry with you. I was sad, because I was afraid you’d lost your way." With your free hand, you take off your shades and lay them on the table so she knows you mean business. “And if you slip up again, I’ll _still fucking be there for you_ , because you’re my best friend and I love you, okay? I promise.”

Roxy lifts her arm to take another sip of juice, and you let your hand fall to the table. The shine in her eyes tells you the swallow was used to get rid of the lump in her throat. “Do you really think I can keep doing it?” she asks with vulnerability you rarely see in lively, loquacious Roxy Lalonde. “I mean, I feel better than I have in years, but _every single time before_ I’ve started drinking again… I just don’t know if I can keep this up.”

“You can,” you tell her, certainty clear in your voice. “You’ll do it little by little, just like you have been. _Poco a poco_.”

Her smile is more genuine than it’s been all night. “ _Poco a poco_.”


	4. Move On; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You were the mermaid for me / 'til one day you found your feet / leaving me in this god-awful bottle / a model of heartache and grief." -Ludo

The pedestal you once had put her on is coated in a thin sheen of dust.

You didn’t really have a Fef Pedestal, of course. She was never a fuckin’ trophy. In your mind, she was just raised to the point where you worshipped the ground she walked on simply because she was the only one who didn’t make fun of your stutter in elementary school (and even that didn’t last; when you got closer, she started making little jabs at that pocket of insecurity that she thought was funny). She was cute and sweet and liked playing pretend, so you made pillow forts and played wizards and slept under the stars. Then you hit middle school and realized you didn’t love her like a friend.

It took a very abrupt end to your relationship six years later to realize you didn’t love her like a partner either. You loved her like a prize.

Deep down, you’re glad that she broke it off when she did. It was your senior year of high school, and you’d been dating for five months because you’d finally convinced her to give it a try. She had been worried that it’d fail and your friendship would be wrecked forever, and that’s exactly what happened—you had a cataclysmic fight, screaming your throats raw and crying until there was nothing left, and when she walked away she didn’t look back.

You were holding her back, you know. She wanted to go to some posh Ivy League school so she could blossom properly, but you were trying to keep her with you, and there was no way you had the grades and the smarts to get into the schools where she wanted to go. There were millions of other things that contributed to your broken relationship too, but that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You hadn’t spoken to her since, and now it’s over a year later. Through Facebook stalking, you know she has a new boyfriend and a strong circle of friends and she’s happier than she’s ever been.

And you’ve never been more miserable.

Getting over her is an impossibility, at this point. Sure, that’s an immature thought, but you’re entirely certain that she sunk an anchor into your heart and labeled it “Feferi Peixes”. Some days you think it would’ve been easier if she’d _died_ , because then there would be no more possibilities. But then you realize what you just thought and hate yourself a little bit more, because a world without Fef isn’t one you want to live in.

So you stew in your heartache and grief, pretending it doesn’t hurt when she walks into the diner you two always used to eat at when you were kids and she doesn’t even give you a second glance when she sees you drinking coffee alone at a table in the corner. A lump forms in your throat when she goes up to a small group of people she hardly talked to in high school and opts to have a conversation with them instead of you, chattering and laughing and pushing her hair away from her face as she smiles—

Abruptly, you toss some money on the table to pay for your hardly-sipped-on coffee and tip, slipping out of the diner to the notice of no one. You breathe in the muggy summer air, snarling at yourself for the pricks of tears at the corners of your eyes, and tell yourself for the umpteenth time, _Move on_.

It never works.


	5. Laudable; Kanaya/Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Better to have loved than never loved at all / Better to have dreamed than never taken the fall / Better to have loved and let you in / Than never to have touched your skin / Better to have hurt and screamed and cried / Fall into the Earth for a trip to the sky / Better to have loved you." - Better To Have Loved, Idina Menzel

You knew this would happen eventually. Rose was a human—even though your jadeblooded lifespan is in the mid-range when compared to other trolls, if you die of old age, you will have lived three times as long as your matesprit did. Compared to highbloods or sea dwellers, who can have relationships lasting thousands of sweeps, the mere fifty-two Earth years (or twenty-four Alternian solar sweeps) you and Rose spent together seems almost like a laughable number.

But to you, it’s a _laudable_ number.

The relationship the two of you had was never prefect, and you didn’t try to make it so. What mattered was you loved each other, and you were willing to compromise and share your thoughts and behave like a healthy couple, supervising the dysfunctional relationships all around you and silently thanking whoever was listening that you and Rose would survive the coming storms, no matter what they may be.

At least, until she died, and like many others who have lost a quadrantmate, you wonder if it was worth it.

Was it worth it to have loved her, when all that love does now is bring you pain? Her passing took its toll on you, and suddenly it was like the human figure Atlas let go of the sky and let it crash onto _your_ shoulders instead, so you could bear the burden. Was it worth it to have loved her, when thoughts of her only bring a loneliness so deep and aching that its depths reach farther than the must unfathomable chasm? Your friends try to help you, since that’s what good friends do, but even when you’re with them you feel isolated without Rose to whisper witty comments to and laugh along with. Was it worth it to have loved her, when you can only cry? There isn’t a week that goes by where you don’t find yourself lying in a bed too big for a single body and cold even though the thermostat tells you it should be warm.

Was it worth it to have loved her? Of course it was. You wouldn’t trade your time together for anything.

As you live and remember her touch and dream, slowly and steadily moving on, you grow stronger. You aren’t quite cynical, but sometimes you stare at yourself in the mirror, afraid that the world will be bitter forever just because Rose Lalonde is no longer there to take it in with you.


	6. Trout Heart Replica; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Killing things is not so hard; it's hurting that's the hardest part. And when the wizard gets to me, I'm asking for a smaller heart, and if he tells me no, I'll hold my breath until I hit the floor. Eventually I know I'm doomed to get what I am asking for." -Amanda Palmer, "Trout Heart Replica"

You’ve done a _lot_ of killing in your six sweeps of life. You started off hunting for food, then you started gathering lusii for Gl’bgolyb, then you had to eradicate the consorts of your aptly-named planet, the Land of Wrath and Angels. You learned how to stop feeling remorse by age three, and even though killing angels takes minutes of concentrated firepower from your legendary Ahab’s Crosshairs, it isn’t exactly _hard_. It’s just draining.

What’s hard is learning how to live without Fef.

You wish you didn’t care about her so much. The moment you have any downtime, she immediately pops into your head, because she’s been your main priority since the day you met her. _Help Fef, keep her lusus fed, make her love you._ Obviously, you never did a good enough job keeping her happy, and she didn’t care about you enough to keep you around, so even though you’re fated to circle each other forever, you’re stuck flopping in the dirt, far away from any source of water, drowning on land.

Sometimes, when your pent-up aggression isn’t released by the time you’re done clearing out an area of angels, you “visit” Fef and her new pissblooded boyfriend on his ugly planet and wreak a little havoc, because you don’t want her to forget you’re still there, waiting for her to come to her senses. Normally, she just yells at you, telling you to go back to your desolate, lonely planet to stagnate forever, and it _hurts_.

Loving her was the worst thing that ever happened to you. You despise yourself for caring about a girl that won’t even look at you anymore. Every day, you try to make yourself hate her for what she’s done to you, and just when you think you’ve succeeded you see her again and old feelings bob to the surface just so you can choke on them. Despite the fact you are miserable without _her_ , she seems to be incredibly happy and carefree without _you_ , and honestly that’s the worst part. You’re afraid you’ll be stuck in this dumb cycle forever, never able to get out.

 _Stop fucking caring about her,_ is your new mantra, but it never really helps. _All she does is hurt you._

Eventually, you get what you were asking for; it happens just in time for you to feel no remorse when you shoot her through the chest with Hope.


	7. Love Me Dead; Dualscar/Mindfang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Love me cancerously, like a salt-sore soaked in the sea.  
> High maintenance means you're a gluttonous queen,  
> narcissistic and mean.  
> ...  
> You're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature  
> finger-bangin' my heart.  
> You call me up drunk, does the fun ever start?  
> You're hideous...and sexy!  
> ...  
> how's your new boy?  
> Does he know about me?  
> You've got the mark of the beast.  
> ...oh, love me dead!" - Ludo, "Love Me Dead"

You’ve done unspeakable things over the sweeps. You’re an _Orphaner_ , for Condesce’s sake: you cull people’s lusii to feed a daymarish monster, you wouldn’t be able to do what you do without being an awful bastard. There isn’t a compassionate bone in your body, and you treat your friends like you treat your slaves. But the worst thing you’ve ever done—worse than the beatings you give and the scare tactics you use and all the _murder_ —is fall black for Mindfang.

She has a bounty on her head that practically makes your mouth water, because she’s a brigand of the highest caliber and the Empire would love to see her blood smeared all over the Grand Highblood’s clubs, but even though you are a member of the Empire’s great bloody fleet and that makes turning her in an obligation, you never have. You’re so deeply black for Aranea fucking Serket (she doesn’t know you know her hatchname; you’re saving that particular tidbit for a time where you’ll catch her completely off guard, and you can’t wait to see the disgusting expression on her usually smug face) that pitch bubbles in your stomach like hot tar, eroding your insides and searing everything in its path.

Is it love? In some twisted, antagonistic way, perhaps. You _believe_ it to be hate, when you’re sober—no one can rile you up quite like she can, and when you hear her cackle on the deck of her own ship, mere meters of water separating your boats, you want to fuck her so hard that bits of you will drip from her seedflap for weeks. It’s a juvenile thought, one you should’ve lost long ago, but even as the sweeps turn innumerable your flame for her never fades.

But now she’s met her match, and you think her loyalty to you has waned. Maybe it’s because you killed that traitorous slave she seemed so enamored with. The jadeblood that Mindfang was almost affectionate towards had to go, because no one else was allowed to fuck her but you, even if they were in a different quadrant entirely; Spinneret was _yours_. And now you think she’s going to fuck the Neophyte that had captured her, since you know Mindfang and you know how her spite burns, and you drink and try to forget her poisonous words and the parasitic clamp she has on you.

The thing you hate the most about her, you think on your eighth glass of fermented soporific and not sober at all, is that you just may love her more than you hate her.


	8. Tomorrow; Psiioniic/Signless/Dolorosa/Disciple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "For the wretched of the earth / There is a flame that never dies / Even the darkest night will end / And the sun will rise." - Herbert Kretzmer; "The Finale"

When the large blueblood rams his shoulder into you, muttering a “Watch it, pissblood,” as he passes, you’re knocked off-balance and land on your knees in the mud, dropping the package you were carrying for your master. Luckily, she isn’t here to see it get dirty, because she’d throw a fit; you can easily clean it off with your psionics before returning to her large manor. You can’t show your psychic abilities in the middle of town, though, since it’d draw too much attention.

“Here.”

There’s a hand being thrust in your face, and all you can do for a few seconds is blink dumbly. The other troll wiggles his fingers, and your eyes dart to his face to take in his smile. Warily, you grasp his hand and let him pull you up, and as you rub your muddy palms on your pants, he reaches down and picks up your box. As he gives it to you, you see you’ve made his hands dirty, and you immediately hang your head rigidly, hunching your shoulders and apologizing, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Woah,” the other troll says with a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder. “Wait a second.” He seems to realize why you were adamant about expressing your forgiveness as his eyes dart to the tag clipped to your ear. “What’s a little bit of dirt among friends?” he says quietly, and a spark of something sharp and almost warm ignites in your belly. “My name is Kankri. Yours?”

You give him your identification number. “C32460112.”

Shaking his head, he says, “No, I don’t care about that. What’s your _name_?”

Swallowing, you take a second to recall it; it’s been sweeps since you’ve given it to someone. “Mituna.”

~

“Come over here, you look cold.”

Cupping your elbows, you scoot closer to the fire and settle yourself right next to the Dolorosa. She sends you a kind smile—it’s been weeks since you joined them, but every time they treat you with any sort of kindness it makes your stomach hurt a little—as she places the back of her hand on the side of your face. You flinch at the contact, and she pulls away. “You _feel_ cold, too. Meulin,” she calls louder, turning away from you, “fetch Mituna an extra cloak, he’s freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you say, and she gives you a pitying look that makes you feel indignant.

“Oh, darling,” she says, taking the cloak from Meulin as the catlike woman settles on your other side. Porrim wraps the rough fabric around your shoulders, and you can’t help but clutch the cloak tighter. Once you’re settled, Meulin rests her head on your arm. “I don’t think you’ve _ever_ been fine.”

~

“I would die for you,” you say, voice cracking as you gasp for breath. The four of you had been running for hours after highblood forces stormed the area you were in; you barely escaped. “Any of you.”

Kankri’s hand pats your back, rubbing soothing circles on your spine as you try to breathe properly. He’s huffing too, but he’s in better shape than you are so his gasps aren’t as desperate. “You don’t need to say that.”

“Yes I do,” you protest, shaking off his hand and straightening. You continue, even though you suddenly feel like crying. “One day, we’re not going to get away in time, and I know I’d be able to—to stop them from coming after you.”

“By burning out,” Kankri says grimly, and you feel Meulin’s arms wrap around your waist from behind as she buries her face in your neck and purrs. “Mituna, if that day ever comes, don’t needlessly sacrifice yourself for us. None of us would be pleased.”

Gulping, the only thing you can think to say is, “Not ‘if’. _When_.”

~

They are gone, and you are a slave again. The Empress has taken you to space, where the only lights around are distant stars, and she uses you to lead her conquests. Billions of other life forms are enslaved, planets who revolt too hard are obliterated with carefully routed blasts of your psionics, and you are a shell of your former self.

When she isn’t around, mocking you and harassing you for your loneliness and failure, you think of _them_ and how you’re the only one left. You’re old—impossibly old, almost the same age as the nearly immortal Empress herself. You watched another rebellion rise and fall, and somehow…

You have not given up hope.

Despite knowing you will die as a helmsmen in this torturous pit, and despite having given up hope for yourself a long time ago, you know there are trolls out there that have the ability to take this broken, corrupted, cancerous world and make it into something bearable. The darkness will recede, and just like Kankri’s words once brought light to the lives of trolls who spent their entire existence being stepped on and kicked, someone will make it so your people will be free.


	9. Dissapointment; Eridan/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I feel so much and feel nothing at all.  
> I could use another round  
> So I could really break on down  
> I got soul, I'm so wasted."
> 
> \- Wallpaper, I Got Soul, I'm So Wasted.

“Hey, wait a sec, you! Yeah, you with the zigzaggy horns and hipster scarf!” You hear her muttering as you warily make your way over to her. “Edmund, Eric, Daniel, Er—”

“Eridan,” you fill in for her, twining your fingers together behind you, your shoulders involuntarily hunching a bit. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of you.”

She tilts her head to the side, and you can tell she wants a conversation so despite your reservations, you slide onto the barstool next to her. “Didn’t you used to have a stutter?”

“It was an accent,” you snap indignantly before swallowing and remembering that you’re supposed to be mellow now. _A sea dweller showing the tiniest bit of aggression means there’s going to be trouble,_ you remember reading online on a news site just a week ago. “I got rid of it.”

Roxy—she may have forgotten your name in the few years (not sweeps, you’re on Earth so you use years) it’s been since the end of the game, but you didn’t forget hers, because she’s the one who fixed your fuckup with the matriorb—makes an inquisitive noise in the back of her throat, but you don’t elaborate and she moves on to another topic. “Where have you been?” she asks, grinning at the bartender as another beer slides over to her. “Feffy’s been worried sick about you, since you just kinda disappeared while the rest of us stayed in the same fuckin’ apartment building.”

Something painful jabs into your chest, and you venture, “Really?”

“Yeah.” She takes a swallow of her human soporific and offers, “Want me to buy you a drink?”

You shake your head, and hope you’re not crossing a boundary when you say, “I thought you quit.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” she says with a bitter smirk that you know you wear more often than not. “I just…” She runs her fingers through her hair, sighing harshly. “I was sick of feelin’ stuff, so I decided hey, drinking used to make me not feel things I didn’t want to, but now I’m just a drunken mess alone at a bar.” She swallows, and you think she’s trying not to cry. “Dirk and Jane are going to be so disappointed in me.”

Disappointment makes you think of missed calls from old friends on your phone and texts begging you to contact them that stopped coming a long time ago. You still get a call from Karkat or Kanaya every once in a while, but you’ve never answered, because you know you’ll never live up to their expectations, especially after letting them down so many times before. They’d be disgusted at what you’ve become. You hope Roxy doesn’t notice the needle marks on your arms and decide to say something to them, but perhaps she’s too drunk to be that perceptive.

You know how pent up feelings eat at you and turn into demons, so you offer, “Wanna talk about it?”

Blinking in surprise, she says, “Um.”

Huffing a small, one-syllable laugh, you reach over and take the beer from her hand, drinking the almost-full container in a couple of gulps. She’s had enough, she’ll thank you in the morning. It’ll hardly affect you; sea dweller booze is a _lot_ stronger. “Drinkin’ and runnin’ away isn’t going to solve any of your issues.”

“Take your own advice,” she says, poking you in the side right near your gills. “Especially the ‘running away’ part, ya damn hypocrite.” Part of you wants to bristle at the insult, but it’s said with no venom. It’s almost _teasing_. “One more round?” she asks.

“No. Pay your tab and let’s go.”

Sighing, she listens to you, taking out her wallet and waving the bartender over. “Where are we gonna go? My place is crawling with people you’ve been tryin’ to avoid, and it’s all the way across the city.”

“My apartment is just a few blocks away, if you don’t mind dirtiness,” you tell her, and you don’t know why you’re doing this. Maybe it’s because you’re so desperate for a familiar face and some goddamn company that you’d even take _Jake_ with you, and that’s saying something. “You can sleep there and sober up, and none of your friends will know you started drinkin’ again.”

She wants to know why you’re doing this, you’re sure, but she just nods and jumps off the barstool, and you have to grab her arm to steady her. Roxy takes this as an invitation and hooks you together at the elbows, and you hide a blush and smash down something pale as you lead her home.

After a few seconds of fumbling with your key, you make it inside, locking the door behind you. Flicking on the light reveals a dingy living room with brown stains on the walls, a less grungy space on the carpet where a couch was before you sold it, and screws on the wall from where a TV used to be mounted. You blanch when you’re walking by the kitchen and she notices a syringe on the counter. Her eyes go wide, and you tug her faster. “What’s—?”

“You’ve got your ways of copin’ and I’ve got mine,” you snap, dragging her into your bedroom and nearly slamming the door shut. “And that’s all there is to say on the matter.”

Roxy seems concerned, but it fades as she sees you don’t have a recuperacoon, but a bed. “I thought trolls preferred those sopor-thingies.”

“Sopor’s expensive,” you explain, flopping down onto the hard mattress that creaks from your weight. “I learned to adapt, since violent daymares aren’t something to worry about anymore. New world ‘n all.”

“You still have bad dreams, though.”

It’s not a question, but you answer it anyway. “Of course. I just don’t have to worry about tearin’ up the mattress.”

She climbs into bed with you, and you talk for hours, ending up curled together in the sheets. You laugh more than you have in a long time, and both of you shed a fair amount of tears, but when you fall asleep to the rising sun, you wonder if you’ll still be pale for her when you wake up, and as your arms start to itch you swallow and realize it doesn’t matter, because each of your demons own you more than you could ever care for each other.


	10. Fluffy Kitty; Jaspers&Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Yes. Yes I am the fluffiest kitty oh my gosh ever. And every day I learn how to make myself fluffier and smarter. I am the fluffy singularity."  
> -A Softer World

This new bow is itchy and it gets in the way when you try to drink water. Even though the pretty pretty thing around your neck is silky and you usually like silk, you paw at it again and again until it’s a ragged ribbon on the floor of the kitchen.

“Jaspers,” your young human rebukes—she just turned eight a few days ago, so now she’s the same age as you!—as she inspects the damage. You know her weaknesses, so you exploit them by rolling onto your belly and meowing a few times. Finally, she sighs and kneels on the floor to rub you until you purr. Your human is so sweet and forgiving!

It seems she gets tired of petting you, though, because she picks you up and drapes you over her shoulder before walking back to her room. She’s so warm and her blonde hair covers you, like a neat cape! You could wear a cape and be a magic kitty. Hey, even better—Rosie could be a witch and you could be her familiar! You’d have the best adventures and eat lots of catnip and defeat all the bad guys.

Once you’re in her room, she puts you down on her bed and goes to find a book. You sit and wait for her to come back, tail swooshing behind you, and she finally lays down with a stack of paper with scribbles on it that you don’t understand. But hey, if she gets enjoyment from staring at them, you can dig it!

Rose puts her head on one of her pillows, and you crawl on her belly and curl up, purring softly as your human begins to scratch behind your ears. “You’re so fluffy, Jaspers,” she comments, and you snuggle closer to her hand, letting loose a long string of ‘meows’ that roughly translates to, “Yes. Yes I am the fluffiest kitty oh my gosh ever. And every day I learn how to make myself fluffier and smarter. I am the fluffy singularity.”

It doesn’t take long for her to give the book more attention than she’s giving you, so in a petulant fit you jump off the bed and start shredding her curtains like they’re a scratching post. Your cute human makes the most horrified expression when she notices what you’re doing a few minutes too late, and she drops her book and runs over. “No, bad Jaspers! Bad cat! Mom’s going to be so mad…”

As she inspects the curtains, you makes your eyes all shiny and rub against her leg, purring to tell her you love her. She can’t stay mad at you; your human, still gazing forlornly at the mess, scoops you up and holds you in her arms, and you lick the side of her neck. Ah, yes. You have her wrapped around you claw.


	11. Killed Them All; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill them all, and you are a god." - Jean Rostand

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CA: i did it kar  
CG: WHAT DID YOU DO, EXACTLY? DID YOU MAKE DINNER, DO A BACKFLIP, ALCHEMIZE A NEW CAPE..?  
CA: the angels are all dead  
CG: WAIT  
CG: WHAT  
CA: evvery single one a them is dead  
CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU ACTUALLY MANAGED TO COMMIT GENOCIDE?  
CG: ERIDAN, THAT’S NOT SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF.  
CG: LIKE, AT ALL.  
CG: ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY WERE YOUR CONSORTS AND YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO FUCKING KILL THEM.  
CA: wwell i did and i cant take it back now  
CA: honestly ivve nevver felt so powwerful  
CA: like  
CA: im not evven sad about fef right noww despite the fact im alwways sad about fef these days  
CG: DUDE ARE YOU OKAY?  
CA: havve you been listenin to me  
CA: im great  
CG: DON’T GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE PUTTING UP A FARCE. I KNOW YOU’RE A DRAMATIC, INSANE FUCKTRAIN BUT THIS IS PUSHING IT.  
CA: kar i reely dont knoww wwhat youre talkin about  
CA: fuck i meant really i dont use fish puns i nevver liked them  
CA: they wwere fefs thing not mine  
CG: WOW YOU’RE TRYING SO DAMN HARD TO BE OKAY IT HURTS TO WATCH. OR READ, I GUESS.  
CG: I REALLY WANT TO COME OVER AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE ALRIGHT BUT I CAN’T LEAVE KANAYA RIGHT NOW, THERE’S SO MUCH FROG BREEDING TO BE DONE.  
CA: its fine kar i didnt ask you to come  
CA: and i dont knoww wwhy you think im suddenly havvin a mental breakdowwn or something because i feel better than i havve in ages  
CA: the wwhole killin angels thing has been GOOD for me i swwear  
CA: noww that ivve actually committed genocide instead a just wwhinin about it people are goin to take me seriously  
CA: i killed them all haha eridan ampora is no longer a joke theres actually bite to his bark wwho fuckin kneww  
CA: you guys can talk about god tier and winnin the game and all that but at least you knoww that in terms of becomin gods i did it first  
CG: ERIDAN, DO ME A HUGE FAVOR.  
CG: GO SIT DOWN IN A NICE COZY PILE, AND PUT ON A FUNNY MOVIE THAT YOU LIKE. NOT ONE OF THOSE PIRATE FLICKS OR MILITARY DRAMAS, A NICE SLAPSTICK COMEDY THAT’LL MAKE YOU LAUGH. EAT SOME CHOCOLATE OR SOMETHING. MAKE YOURSELF HAPPY AND LESS CRAZY. IF I COULD COME OVER I’D HUG THE SHIT OUT OF YOU, BECAUSE YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN, BUT I’M JUST GOING TO HUG MY HUSKTOP AND HOPE THE SENTIMENT GETS THROUGH TO YOUR ROTTED THINKPAN.  
CG: YOU GOT THAT, DOUCHECANOE? YOUR ASS IS GETTING VIRTUALLY HUGGED. NOW I HAVE TO GO, PROMISE ME YOU WON’T DO ANYTHING ELSE DUMB.  
CA: youre mockin me  
CG: NO I’M NOT  
CA: you don’t think i did it  
CA: god you think im pathetic just like the rest a them do  
CG: YOU’RE FUCKING DELUSIONAL, AMPORA. I DON’T THINK YOU’RE PATHETIC. I THINK YOU’RE TOEING THE LINE BETWEEN SANE AND SHITHIVE MAGGOTS, YEAH, BUT THAT CAN BE FIXED. PLEASE, JUST TAKE A BREAK. YOU KILLED ALL THE ANGELS, GOOD JOB. EAT SOME GODDAMN ICE CREAM AND GET OVER IT, BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A HAUGHTY BITCH WITH A GOD COMPLEX, I CAN TELL THIS IS EATING YOU ALIVE.  
CA: fuck you  
CA: i hoped youd be proud a me but i guess that wwas too much to ask  
CA: bye  
CG: FUCK, ERIDAN WAIT

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling carcinoGenticist [CG]


	12. Apology; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "They say there are plenty of fish in the sea. I say 'fuck you she was my sea.’” -J. Faulkner

Fef used to tease you because you only ever went in the ocean when you came to visit her every once in a while. She must really be laughing at you now, because you _never_ go in anymore.

Karkat keeps telling you that you need to get over her, that you’re wasting your demented feelings on a troll who doesn’t reciprocate, but you can’t just give up on her. She’s been your best friend since you were two, you’ve loved her for your entire life; it would be impossible to drop her like she was just a fling. You’ve convinced yourself that you were hatched for each other, and even though she no longer believes that, you wish desperately that she’d at least _think_ about getting back together with you. Moirails, matesprits, you don’t care what quadrant anymore. You just want to be free to love her without feeling like you’re drowning.

You try to FLARP to get your mind off her. Vriska hasn’t played in a while—that whole thing with Team Charge really fucked her up, even if she doesn’t want to admit it—so you’ve had to go through some new allies and rivals, and it’s so _easy_ it isn’t even fun anymore. Your last campaign was the most difficult in a long time, and you ended up accidentally getting a newbie sea dweller on your makeshift team killed, and even though it’s been weeks you still feel guilty about it. You haven’t felt remorse about anything you’ve done FLARPing in _sweeps_. It’s weird and on top of your breakup-induced depression, the guilt isn’t exactly _welcome_.

Despite your lack of pale feelings for Fef, all you want to do now is sit with her in a pile with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair and sings sea shanties under her breath. Doing something so pale with her used to make you feel bitter, but now that you’ve lost her completely you _ache_ to be that close to her again.

God, you’re sorry. You’re so damn sorry that you fucked things up this hard, and you can’t even contact her to apologize—she’s blocked you on Trollian and you think it’d be incredibly disrespectful to show up at her hive and demand to be let in. So, you do the next best thing and contact your closest mutual friend.

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

CA: kan  
CA: i knoww you wwere fefs friend more than you evver wwere mine and thats wwhy youre givvin me the cold shoulder  
CA: and i cant tell her this myself because she blocked me  
CA: but if you evver cared about me evven a little bit can you tell her that im sorry  
CA: i truly am  
CA: and she doesnt have to talk to me if she doesnt wwant to i just really wwant her to knoww  
CA: im awware she thinks i nevver cared about her but thats not true  
CA: like at all  
CA: so just tell her im sorry please  
GA: Just Because You Said Please  
CA: oh wwoww you actually responded i wwasnt expectin that  
GA: I Will Tell Her That Youd Like To Apologize If She Gives You The Opportunity  
GA: But I Shall Warn You That She Will Most Likely Not Want To Talk To You  
CA: i knoww  
CA: you havve no idea howw upset that makes me but i knoww

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]


	13. Cults; Karkat&Signless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Don't you worry, don't you worry, child. See heaven's got a plan for you." - Swedish House Mafia _Don't you worry Child_

The Cult of the Signless came first.

They found you a lusus and a hive. They stuck you amongst other lowbloods so your anonymous gray wouldn’t cause too much trouble—people would just shrug and think you were too embarrassed to show that you were brown or rust. The first cult made sure things ran relatively smoothly for you, and you didn’t even know they existed until you were seven sweeps old and a representative in a long, dark cloak came to speak to you in the middle of the day.

“He said there would be another,” the woman tells you, pushing the old tome across the table. You eye it warily, even though it’s just a fucking book. “He used His final breath to claim there would be a second coming, and when you were discovered in the caverns, we knew it was time.”

“Get the fuck out of my hive,” you tell her, shaking in rage and confusion. When she doesn’t move, you emphasize, “ _OUT_!”

The Cult of the Sufferer came next.

His clothes are more ordinary and he came in the night, with nothing but a t-shirt full of ratty holes and a pair of jeans that stunk. The man seems almost feral, emaciated, and once you allow him inside he falls at your feet and bows. “Please tell me _they_ didn’t get you first,” he whispers in a cracked voice.

“I’m not joining a fucking cult,” you say, gritting your teeth. “I don’t give a fuck who my dimwitted ancestor was, I’m not him and I’m not your fucking savior.”

“But He said in his Vast Expletive—”

Taking a deep breath, you tell him, “I. Don’t. Care. All I want to do is live past ten sweeps.”

“There are plans for you,” he says, scrambling up off the ground and following you into the kitchen. As you microwave some leftover grubloaf (you can’t send this guy away without putting something in his stomach, he’s too skinny and pathetic), he continues, “My child, you don’t have to live in fear anymore. If you come with us and fulfill your duty, you’ll live past ten. You’ll grow _old_ , like the Sufferer never did.”

“Because we’ll have a fancy rebellion and somehow win, and then we’ll spend the rest of our lives making daisy chains in meadows and singing songs about love and equality, right?” you say snidely.

Shaking his head, the Sufferist says, “No, that is what the followers of the Signless would do. We are followers of the _Sufferer_ ; we want the hemospectrum _flipped_.”

The timer on the microwave dings, and you take out the hot dish and shove it into his hands. “Keep the damn plate and get out of my hive, I want absolutely nothing to do with you.”

As fate would have it, you _do_ end up assisting a rebellion. It’s just not for some goddamn cultists. When you’re sitting in a grand dining room of Gamzee’s hive, listening to Feferi discuss reform as Eridan tries to throw in some of his own ideas, while newly-winged Tavros stares on, wide-eyed, and the rest of the idiots you met online sweeps ago try to plan this insane revolution, you think _this_ is your destiny. You’re not the fucking Signless Sufferer and you never will be. You’ll be Karkat Vantas until the day you die, and you prefer it that way.


	14. That was a $350,000 car, you fuckhead; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I’d be alright if I could just see you" - _Miracle Mile_ , Cold War Kids

“Hello, hello.”  
  
He waves at the webcam, barely smiling, and you see the bags under his eyes and— _woah_.  
  
“Dude, where are your rings?” you question.  
  
Eridan swallows, propping his chin in his hand and looking slightly ill. “My dad cut me off, and I have rent due in two days. They were worth a small fortune.”  
  
“So you sold all of them?” you ask incredulously, because he was so goddamned  _attached_  to those things. He started wearing some of them in middle school, for crying out loud. That’s a decade-long relationship.  
  
“Well, I did keep  _one_.” He pulls it out from where it was hanging under his shirt on a chain around his neck. You recognize the dinky ring you got him as a joke from one of those plastic toy dispensers for little kids.  
  
“Oh, ha ha,” you deadpan, leaning back in your desk chair. “Very funny. Why did Daddy Ampora stop giving you buckets of money?”  
  
“Um.” His cheeks are heating up, and he looks pretty damn sheepish. “I sort of… totaled my car.” He sighs, looking forlorn. “My three hundred and fifty thousand dollar car that was my college graduation gift. He was pretty damn pissed.” His lips slide into a pout. “I loved that car.”  
  
“You wrecked it  _that bad_?” you demand, instantly worried. “Eridan, are you okay?”  
  
“I’d be better if I could see you in person instead of just on Skype.”  
  
“ _Eridan_.”  
  
Shrugging slightly, he says, “They build those cars well, I should’ve been even more hurt than I am. I got lucky.”  
  
He can be such an evasive  _brat_  sometimes. “But you  _are_  hurt, though.”  
  
Sighing, he pushes his chair back and lifts up one of his legs, exposing a purple cast that runs from his knee to the tips of his toes. “Broken in three places,” he says a bit breathlessly as he slowly lowers it back to the floor and scoots closer to his computer again. “Plus some miscellaneous cuts and bruises. The breaks were pretty clean, so I’ll be back to normal in no time.”  
  
You exhale slowly, wishing this dumb study abroad thing was over so you could be in San Francisco with him. There are still two more weeks to go. “Is there anything I can do?” you ask.  
  
 _Come home_ , is the clear answer. You see it shining in his eyes, but he knows as well as you do that if he really asked, you’d hop on the first plane out of here and be in California by tomorrow, so he doesn’t make the request. “Let’s watch a movie,” he finally answers. “It’ll help me take my mind off all this bullshit.”  
  
“Excellent choice,  _monsieur_ ,” you tell him, bringing up your extensive electronic library. “Comedy or drama?”  
  
“Comedy,” he says for once, smirking. “I think I’ve had enough drama in my life for a while.”


	15. Cruelty; Eridan/Feferi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “... It's awful not to be loved. It's the worst thing in the world... It makes you mean, and violent, and cruel.” ― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: this one is humanstuck!

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began pestering caligulasAquarium [CA]

CA: this better be fuckin good fef   
CC: Wow, -Eridan, way to be M---EAN w)(en I’m just trying to c)(eck on you. 38(   
CA: wwhy wwould you need to check on me im FINE   
CC: Your brot)(er says you’re )(ardly eating and you never come out of your room.   
CA: since wwhen are you and cro on speakin terms i thought you hated each other   
CC: Well YOU won’t speak to me anymore, and I’m WORRI-----ED about you!!   
CC: I need to get information some)(ow!   
CA: so you go behind my back to get it   
CA: thats really damn considerate a you   
CC: It’s been W—E—EKS, guppy! I understand you’re still )(urt, but I t)(ought our friends)(ip meant somet)(ing to you.   
CA: it does   
CA: and dont call me guppy   
CA: its like a slap in the fuckin face   
CA: honestly wwhy SHOULD our friendship mean anything to me anymore   
CA: i told you i lovved you and you laughed in my face   
CC: I didn’t t)(ink you were serious!!! I am TRULY sorry!!!   
CC: It was just so SUDD----EN, I didn’t know )(ow to react! I didn’t mean to belittle you or make you feel like an idiot.   
CA: you knoww wwhat fef i dont wanna havve this convversation anymore you can just fuck right off   
CA: you havve no idea wwhat its like not to be lovved   
CA: its the wworst feelin in the wworld   
CA: and if all youre gonna do is be condescendin towwards me then i dont need to talk to you   
CC: …   
CC: -Eridan, you )(ave no idea )(ow sorry I am.   
CC: I DO love you! SO MUC)(!!! Just… not in t)(e way you want me to.   
CA: im sure you dont because NO ONE fuckin loves me   
CA: cro only talks to me if he wwants a favor   
CA: dads never home   
CA: im kars backup friend and kan has alwways preferred you   
CA: wwho the hell do i havve noww huh   
CC: You still )(ave M---E!   
CA: wwell i knoww one thing for sure   
CC: W)(at?   
CA: at least i dont surround myself wwith people wwho only like me for my money and my looks   
CA: the people you call friends only hang around you because you havve a pretty house and a nice car and you like to pay for them wwhen you go out   
CA: im the only real friend you havve   
CC: You don’t know what friends)(ip really is, do you?   
CC: I love you, -Eridan. I do. But sometimes, you’re just too cruel for me to deal wit)(.   
CC: Now go back to wallowing in self-pity, I apologize for trying to make you feel better. I obviously just made t)(ings worse.   
CA: wwait fef im sorry

cuttlefishCuller [CC] ceased pestering caligulasAquarium [CA]


	16. Robbed; Eridan/Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "They'll steal the rings from your fingers and the love from your heart" - Olivia, Hemlock Grove

For the first time in months, when you wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. This worries you, because even if Kar gets out of bed before you, the covers are still warm. As you sit up and find your glasses on the nightstand, you look around the room, trying to find any trace of him.  
  
Your stomach drops when you notice all the things that are missing.  
  
Your flat screen TV. The scattering of rings you always leave out on your dresser. Your laptop. Your PS4. Swallowing, you bolt out of bed, barely giving yourself enough time to put on boxers before racing into the hallway and then the living room.  
  
The other television is gone too, plus your expensive sound system. You’re hyperventilating at this point, struggling to breathe right, and you go into the kitchen and find your brand new KitchenAid mixer is gone, and so is your microwave. Your car keys aren’t on the counter, either. You nearly trip over yourself running back into the bedroom, and you sigh in relief when you find your iPhone under the bed, where someone must’ve knocked it. The screen is newly cracked, but it still works just fine.  
  
The first thing you do is try to call Kar. Maybe he fell asleep at Sollux’s place, and that’s why he’s missing. There’s no way some robbers kidnapped him.  
  
(Oh God, you’re so fucking scared. You’ve never been so terrified in your entire life, and you grew up with a fucking  _naval commander_  for a father.)  
  
Instead of a ringing noise or Karkat’s voicemail, you get an automated voice saying, “This number has been disconnected.” That’s weird, it can’t be right, because you just used this number yesterday and it worked  _fine_ , plus Kar didn’t mention he was getting a new phone. Fuck, what if the people who stole all your stuff figured out how to completely turn off his phone service so you couldn’t trace him? No no no, that’s impossible, there has to be something else going on—  
  
That’s when you see it. The edge of a piece of paper is sticking out from under the pillow on Kar’s side of the bed, and you leap onto the mattress, throwing the pillow on the floor and desperately grasping it, holding it close to your face so you can read it better; your vision is waning because of how fuckin’ teary you’re getting.  
  
ERIDAN,  
  
THEY SAID YOU WERE DESPERATE AND SHALLOW, BUT HELL I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO BE *THIS* EASY TO GET INTO YOUR HEART AND HOME. IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON I’VE EVER FELT GENUINELY GUILTY ABOUT ROBBING. HEAR THAT, FISHFACE? I DON’T HAVE TO WAIT AROUND TO BE SURE YOU’LL BE DEVASTATED BY THIS, SO I’M SORRY I HURT YOU. YOU’RE ACTUALLY A HALF-DECENT GUY UNDER THAT LAYER OF SNOBBERY YOU PUT ON. CUT THE SUPERCILIOUS ACT AND YOU’LL FIND SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY LOVES YOU IN NO TIME.  
  
I’M SORT OF BREAKING THE RULES BY LEAVING YOU A NOTE—MY STABDAD (FUNNY LINGO, I KNOW) WOULD BE FURIOUS. BUT ERIDAN, TONS OF OTHER PEOPLE GO THROUGH THE MOTIONS OF TELLING THE POLICE ABOUT ALL THIS AND DUMP ANOTHER LAYER OF STRESS ON TOP OF HAVING TONS OF EXPENSIVE SHIT TAKEN, AND I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU THAT YOU SHOULDN’T WASTE YOUR TIME. YOU’LL NEVER FIND US. HELL, YOU’RE THE NINETH PERSON I’VE DONE THIS TO AND I STILL HAVE A COMPLETELY CLEAN POLICE RECORD. I’M FUCKING THOROUGH WHEN I GO OFF GRID.  
  
SO WHAT YOU SHOULD DO IS MOVE ON AND FORGET ABOUT ME. I’M NEVER COMING BACK, AND NEITHER IS YOUR STUFF. GOD, YOU’RE PROBABLY CRYING RIGHT NOW. AS MUCH AS I HATE TO ADMIT IT, I KNOW YOU PRETTY WELL AT THIS POINT, AND AS I WRITE THIS OUT I’M ALREADY SEEING HOW MUCH YOUR LIPS ARE TREMBLING AND YOUR BLOODSHOT LEAKING EYES, SO WHAT YOU SHOULD DO IS MAKE YOURSELF A CUP OF TEA, SIT DOWN IN THE COMFY RECLINER IN THE LIVING ROOM, AND CALL FEFERI. SHE ALWAYS SEEMS TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER.  
  
WOW, I’VE TALKED A LOT IN THIS NOTE. I WAS HONESTLY GOING TO WRITE TWO SENTENCES AND BE DONE; CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE I GOT *ATTACHED* TO YOU? I’VE NEVER HAD THIS HAPPEN BEFORE.  
  
SO I’M SHUTTING UP NOW. ONCE AGAIN, I’M SORRY.  
  
\--KARKAT (BUT AS YOU’VE PROBABLY FIGURED OUT, THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY MY NAME)  
  
You  
  
You’re  
  
What does he  
  
…You’re a speechless, sobbing wreck. Bitterly, you  _do_  take part of his advice and call Fef. It takes you a few minutes to press the right things on your phone since your hands are shaking so badly, and when she answers with a chirpy, “Hey, Eridan!” all you can do is cry, because Kar was the first person you loved who actually loved you back—  
  
Or so you thought.


	17. Lion Heart Cleaves the Waves; Equius/Nepeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Watch the shadow lines fade away  
> brother you will return  
> let your lion heart cleave the waves  
> brother you will return in the breaking light"
> 
> -Vienna Teng, _The Breaking Light_

“I do not think I’m ready for this.”

The two of you have grown up a lot in the ten sweeps it’s been since you reached adulthood and were inducted into Alternia’s great fleet. Both of you survived your training and, because of Equius’ status as a highblood in need of a moirail for pacification, you were able to stay on the same battle cruiser.

That’s where the similarities in your positions end, though. Equius rose through the ranks quickly, and now he’s a newly-established warship captain, with the lives of thirty trolls in his hands. He takes orders directly from the commander of the cruiser now, unlike you, because the Empire decided their best use for you was more in the… well, covert operations department. As your childhood moirail (the love of your life, your shelter in the storm, your partner in everything _but_ crime) stands before you, shaking in his new dress uniform as he sees you one last time before he’s sent out into the first of many battles, you decide to try and comfort him with old habits.

Narrowing your eyes, you unlock your knees, shifting your shoulders so it appears you’re trying to be sneaky. “The fierce huntress, who is well-versed in battles that take place in the shadows, creeps closer to her nervous, fidgety moirail.” Your steps are lighter than air; you hardly feel your feet on the ground. He watches you with exasperation, but you know it’s making him feel better because he’s not wearing his sunglasses, and you can see the fond nostalgia in his expression. “She tenses, her keen eye watching his efurry movement before she pounces!” You bound forward so you’re pressing together, chest-to-chest, and take his hands in yours.

“And she tells him not to worry,” you say, smiling around the lump in your throat, “because even if she is not physically with him to guide him, he will carry her love with him, and it will purrotect him even through the worst—”

He cuts you off by embracing you so tightly all of the air rushes from your lungs, and you don’t tell him it hurts. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck and _cling_ , hoping he doesn’t notice how _afraid_ you are for him.

“You’ll come back,” you assure him when his grip on you lessens, “and this will be your furst victory of many, Equius. I believe in you.”


	18. Razzle Dazzle; Eridan/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Give 'em the old razzle dazzle  
> Razzle Dazzle 'em  
> Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it  
> And the reaction will be passionate  
> Give 'em the old hocus pocus  
> Bead and feather 'em  
> How can they see with sequins in their eyes?
> 
> What if your hinges all are rusting?  
> What if, in fact, you're just disgusting?
> 
> Razzle dazzle 'em  
> And they'll never catch wise!"
> 
> \- Billy Flynn

“Come on, Eri! It’s the one year reunion, we’ve gotta show them you’re not the same dour, stuffy, supercilious, genocidal, mentally unstable—”

“Yeah okay, Rox, I get it. You can stop listin’ adjectives.” Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest and eye the pile of clothes your moirail has thrown all over the bed. She’s been so excited about the first big reunion between all of the Sgrub/Sburb players since you went your separate ways. After you were all plopped back down on a mixed-species Earth, learning to adapt to a whole new world with a different history, culture, and list of socially acceptable actions was hard. At least you had Roxy to help you out, seeing as none of the other humans wanted anything to do with you (well, except Jake English; he comes over once in a while to catch up, seeing as he doesn’t understand the words “get the fuck out of my apartment you toerag”) and the other trolls weren’t keen on interacting with you.

Not that you could blame them.

“Heeeey,” Rox intones, snapping her fingers in front of your face. You flinch, fins folding back reflexively. “Stop thinking so hard, you big goddamn dork.”

Licking your lips, you blurt out something that’s been bothering you ever since Jane made the event on Facebook. “Why was I even invited? They all hate me.” You pull your knees up and prop your chin on them petulantly, holding your ankles, and everything about you _droops_ like a wilting flower.

“Eridan No-Middle-Name Ampora,” Roxy states boldly, “I can name multiple people that expressed interest in seeing you again.”

“Really?” you deadpan, expecting her to flounder to even come up with _one_ person.

“ _Yes_!” She begins ticking names off her fingers. “Jake, Karkat, Kanaya, Aradia, Sollux—”

“Okay now I _really_ know you’re pullin’ this list outta your ass,” you snap, all hope dying. “Sol would never wanna see me.”

Rox throws her arms in the air. “You shared a flippin’ _body_! Maybe I did stretch a little with that one, but I swear he said to me _just_ the other night, ‘wow I might actually get to have a civil converthation with ED for once, I can’t wait.’ I mean yeah, some of that was sarcastic, but—oh Eribabe _no_ , stop that trembling lip. Stop it right now. You’ll mess up your eyeliner if you cry, oh God—”

She wraps her arms around you, squeezing so hard you think your insides might start coming out of your various orifices, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Quietly, you say, “It’s okay, I’m not gonna cry. I’m fine.”

“Aww, babs,” she coos, kissing the top of your head. You feel a little stab in your chest that reminds you how fucking _pale_ you are for Roxy Lalonde, and bitterly your mind tacks on, _what if she_ really _had to pacify you? Would she be able to talk you out of a rage? Would she be able to stop you from going on a killing spree?_

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shove all of those thoughts out of your mind. They’re counterproductive.

“You know,” Roxy says softly, her hand rubbing your back, “someone told me yesterday that they were _incredibly_ excited to see you. One of my gal pals.”

No way. “Fef?”

“Yeah, our dear Feffy.”

You venture, “Do you think I’ve apologized enough times? I could grovel again. I haven’t groveled since—”

“You don’t need to _grovel_ ,” she giggles, running her fingers lightly across your scalp from your widow’s peak to the crown of your head. She knows you love that. “She’s willing to put all that behind her and start over. Just let her lead.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly, feeling almost numb, “I can do that.”

With a kiss to one of your horns, Roxy turns back around to eye the pile of clothes again. “We need to dress you in something that’ll even impress _Kanaya_ ,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and staring down at the pile.

“Or,” you venture, “since that mound looks pretty comfy, we could make it an official pile and cuddle in it.”

Rox puts a hand over her mouth to hide the grin on her face, but you know it’s there. After muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “Trolls are fuckin’ weeeeird,” she spins _again_ and cups your jaw in her hands, each the tips of her fingers rubbing the lowest tines of your fins. She’s always been affectionate, but today she seems to be pushing that _hard_. (You secretly appreciate the effort.) “You’re a dork. Have I told you that lately?”

“I think you said it a couple of minutes ago, actually.”

She paps your cheeks sharply before spinning on her heel and returning to her previous task. “What about this vest aaaand…” She digs around in the pile before pulling out something long-sleeved, button-up and gray, “This shirt? I think they look nice!”

“Yeah, I like it,” you say, already eyeing the pair of pants you want to wear. She sees what you’re looking at immediately and swipes the pair up, tossing them across the room and onto the floor as you whine wordlessly.

“No stripes!” she declares. She fishes out a plain pair of black pants and says, “And before you ask, no scarves either. It hurts me too, but I think it’d look kinda funny with the whole sophisticated hipster look I’m going for.”

Just then, her phone starts blaring some song about razzles and dazzles, and she picks it up off the bed and answers, “Hey! …Yeah, Janey, we’re coming. Eridan’s just being a fashion diva.”

“Poppycock, Lalonde, _you’re_ the one—!”

“I knoooow I said I’d help with last minute cleaning, and I still am! We’ll be there in twenty minutes, I swear. Bye!” She ends the call and tosses the clothing she wants you to wear onto your lap. “Go get dressed! Oh, and roll your sleeves up to your elbows; you’ll look _hot_ , I promise!”

With a put-upon sigh, you listen. You still feel pretty damn nervous about this whole affair, but at least you know _one_ person at this shindig isn’t going to despise you.


	19. Against the Moon; Feferi/Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You would've been proud of me, Dad," he added, turning to look at his father. "I was ever so polite and dignified - right up until she called Remus a half-blood beggar's brat. Then I'm afraid I kicked her." -James Potter, in _Against the Moon_ by Stoplight Delight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: in this chapter, there's classism, racism, and racial slurs.

“I had fun!” you tell Sollux, reaching for both of his hands as you stand facing each other on your front porch. As you swing your arms slightly and smile, you feel like you’re in one of those ‘80s movies Karkat likes so much.

“So did I,” he says awkwardly, but coupled with the blush on his cheeks and the grin tugging at the corners of his usually downturned lips, you find that awkwardness endearing. “Though I still kinda feel like I was underdressed.”

Giggling, you squeeze his hands and say, “I think you were just dressed up enough, Mr. Captor. You don’t want to look _stuffy_.” He’s in a simple white collared shirt, wrinkly and untucked, with his nicest dark jeans and a black tie (he borrowed it from his dad, he told you earlier, and you’d laughed and retied the knot for him because it was loose and lopsided).

Not wanting to deal with anticipation anymore, you lift yourself onto the balls of your feet and lean forward. He seems a little bit surprised by the kiss you plant on him, but he melts into you soon enough and you think yeah, this is a nice first-date kiss. He tastes like mint and honey, with a tinge of the steak he’d eaten for dinner. He’d gushed to you half of the way back to your house that he’d never eaten a better meal, and you were happy you’d been able to convince him to let you pay so you could go somewhere nice.

“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” you say after breaking away.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, and as you let go of his hands and take out your house key, he ventures, “Wait, FF.”

You open the door, getting one foot inside before turning back towards him. “Yes?”

“Thanks. Again. For um,” he fumbles for a second. “Dinner. And stuff. I really hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” you grin, resisting the urge to step back outside to ruffle his hair. “I’ve never been on a better date.”

After hanging up your pretty fuchsia dress and getting into something more comfortable, your iPad pings with a Pesterchum message. For a second you think it’s Sol, but honestly, you should’ve known better.

CA: fef  
CA: hey  
CA: did the chink get you home safe

…Okay, you’re used to Eridan’s bullshit by now—he is technically your best friend—but wow did that comment piss you off.

CC: -------ERIDAN!  
CC: W)(AT T)(---E FUCK I T)(OUG)(T I GOT YOU TO STOP USING SLURS.  
CC: NOT LIK---E IT –EV-EN MAK----ES ANY S-ENS------E, )(---E’S VI------ETNAM----ES—E, YOU DUMBASS.  
CA: wwoah fef hey calm dowwn  
CA: you knoww i didnt mean anything by it   
CA: its just automatic since my dad practically taught me those kinds of wwords alongside dog and house okay  
CC: T)(at’s not a proper excuse and you know it.  
CC: Would you ever call M-----E a NIGG--ER?  
CA: fef no of course not  
CC: T)(en you s)(ould be aware that Sollux deserves proper respect as well.  
CA: im sorry okay  
CA: christ  
CC: UG)( you’re not really sorry.  
CC: You’re just sorry I got mad.  
CA: no fef i swwear im feelin some genuine fuckin remorse right noww  
CC: Sig)(. Well do you actually want to know )(ow my date went or are you just going to make rude jabs at him?  
CA: i really wanna knoww for unselfish reasons for once i promise  
CC: )(e picked me up at around six, and )(e’d obviously just was)(ed and cleaned )(is car because it was spotless, and )(e got me a bouquet of flowers. I acted like a )(igh-class lady for at least PART of the night, so you s)(ould be proud of me for at least TRYING. We went to the steak)(ouse near the airport and )(ad a really nice dinner, with good food and interesting conversation and –Eridan, don’t even T)(INK about trying to mess t)(is up for me, because I really like )(im.  
CA: wwoww i didnt think hed be able to afford that kinda place  
CC: I paid.  
CC: AND I DON’T WANT TO )(---EAR A WORD FROM YOU ABOUT T)(AT!!!  
CA: fine i wwill hold my tongue  
CC: T)(ANK you.  
CA: but fef he livves in the fuckin ghetto  
CA: hes as poor as you can get wwithout bein homeless  
CA: a course you paid i shouldnt havve assumed otherwwise

…You think you’ve had enough of Eridan for a while. Even though you know he’ll probably blow up your phone with texts immediately, you block him on Pesterchum, put your phone on silent, and settle into bed. You think it’s time to lose yourself in Netflix.

Or maybe you’ll break the promise you made Sollux. Instead of waiting until tomorrow to text him, you think you’ll do it right now.


	20. IT; Equius/Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" -the IT crowd

“Captor.”

“Nnguh.”

“ _Captor_.”

“Fuck off, ‘m sleeping.”

“Sollux, _please_. My laptop is having… issues.”

Well _that’s_ a word you never hear from him when he’s speaking directly to you. Sighing and rubbing your eyes, you stretch before painstakingly disentangling yourself from Equius’ soft sheets, wiping off the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “This better be fucking good. Did you try turning it off and on again?”

“Of course.” For some reason, you don’t believe him. Despite that, you let him lead you to the living room, where his laptop is resting on the coffee table. You sit down in front of it, taking in his weird horse desktop background, and ask, “What’s the issue?”

“Um,” he starts, already looking a bit moist, “you’ll just have to see. Open up Firefox.”

You do, and then he tells you to go to a random site with text on it, so you open up his Facebook page. Random words are highlighted in blue, designating them as links with double-bars under them, and when you direct the cursor to hover over them, you get an ad. Welp, it looks like he downloaded some shitty adware—

That’s when you notice the horse dildos the ad is displaying.

“EQ,” you demand, letting your head hang. “ _What did you download_?” Please don’t say horse porn, please don’t say horse porn…

Swallowing, he rubs the back of his neck, saying, “A dating simulator.”

“Did you torrent it?”

“Yes.”

Scowling, you open him his browser extensions and delete two with suspicious codes. “I’ll restart it and run a malware scan in safe mode, that should take care of your problem.”

You do just that, and as it’s scanning, you decide to get some breakfast. EQ follows you into the kitchen like a timid colt, and it’s a weird picture, since you’re a scrawny nerd and he’s a head taller than you and twice your weight. Grabbing one of his dumb chocolate protein shakes, you take a few sips as you get out the frying pan for eggs.

Half an hour later, you’re full and the scan has completed. You let it isolate and deal with the bits of malware it found before you restart the computer again, and when you open up Firefox after all your work, everything is as it should be. “There you go,” you say, getting up and smacking his ass as he scoots by you to sit in your previous spot in front of his laptop. “This is why you shouldn’t download My Little Pony dating sims. Christ.”


End file.
